Polydore.

  Cham. My lord, I stand in need of your assistance, In something that concerns my peace and honour.   Acas. Spoke like the son of that brave man I lov'd! So freely, friendly, we convers'd together. Whate'er it be, with confidence impart it; Thou shalt command my fortune and my sword.   Cham. I dare not doubt your friendship, nor your justice, Your bounty shown to what I hold most dear, My orphan sister, must not be forgotten!   Acas. Pr'ythee no more of that, it grates my nature.   Cham. When our dear parents dy'd, they dy'd together; One fate surpris'd 'em, and one grave receiv'd 'em; My father, with his dying breath, bequeath'd Her to my love; my mother, as she lay Languishing by him, call'd me to her side, Took me in her fainting arms, wept, and embrac'd me; Then press'd me close, and, as she observ'd my tears, Kiss'd them away: said she, "Chamont, my son, By this, and all the love I ever show'd thee, Be careful of Monimia: watch her youth; Let not her wants betray her to dishonour; Perhaps, kind heav'n may raise some friend." Then sigh'd, Kiss'd me again; so bless'd us, and expir'd. Pardon my grief.   Acas. It speaks an honest nature.   Cham. The friend heav'n rais'd was you; you took her up, An infant, to the desert world expos'd, And prov'd another parent.   Acas. I've not wrong'd her.   Cham. Far be it from my fears.   Acas. Then why this argument?   Cham. My lord, my nature's jealous, and you'll bear it.   Acas. Go on.   Cham. Great spirits bear misfortunes hardly; Good offices claim gratitude; and pride, Where pow'r is wanting, will usurp a little, And make us (rather than be thought behind hand) Pay over price.   Acas. I cannot guess your drift; Distrust you me?   Cham. No, but I fear her weakness May make her pay her debt at any rate: And, to deal freely with your lordship's goodness, I've heard a story lately much disturbs me.   Acas. Then first charge her; and if th' offence be found Within my reach, though it should touch my nature, In my own offspring, by the dear remembrance Of thy brave father, whom my heart rejoic'd in, I'd prosecute it with severest vengeance.[exit.   Cham. I thank you, from my soul.   Mon. Alas, my brother! what have I done? My heart quakes in me; in your settled face, And clouded brow, methinks I see my fate. You will not kill me?   Cham. Pr'ythee, why dost thou talk so?   Mon. Look kindly on me then; I cannot bear Severity; it daunts, and does amaze, me; My heart's so tender, should you charge me rough, I should but weep, and answer you with sobbing; But use me gently, like a loving brother, And search through all the secrets of my soul.   Cham. Fear nothing, I will show myself a brother, A tender, honest, and a loving, brother. You've not forgot our father?   Mon. I never shall.   Cham. Then you'll remember too he was a man That liv'd up to the standard of his honour, And priz'd that jewel more than mines of wealth: He'd not have done a shameful thing but once: Though kept in darkness from the world, and hidden, He could not have forgiv'n it to himself. This was the only portion that he left us; And I more glory in't than if possess'd Of all that ever fortune threw on fools. 'Twas a large trust, and must be manag'd nicely; Now, if by any chance, Monimia, You have soil'd this gem, and taken from its value, How will you account with me?   Mon. I challenge envy, Malice, and all the practices of hell, To censure all the actions of my past Unhappy life, and taint me if they can!   Cham. I'll tell thee, then; three nights ago, as I Lay musing on my bed, all darkness round me, A sudden damp struck to my heart, cold sweat Dew'd all my face, and trembling seiz'd my limbs: My bed shook under me, the curtains started, And to my tortur'd fancy there appear'd The form of thee, thus beauteous as thou art; Thy garments flowing